“She had blue skin. And so did he. He kept it hid, And so did she. They searched for blue their whole life through, Then passed right by – And never knew.”

And the tree was happy.

And if I say this is a wonderful poem, Is that exaggeration?

It’s all the same to the clam.

Whatever you are is all okay. I don’t like you anyway.

Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understand each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings.

When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots?

But all the magic I have known I’ve had to make it myself.

And she loved a boy very, very much- even more than she loved herself.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends.

And he didn’t really know where he was going, but he did know he was going somewhere because you really have to go somewhere, don’t you?

And the boy loved the tree, very much. And the tree was happy.

If the track is tough and the hill is rough, thinking you can just ain’t enough.

I keep meeting all the right people at all the wrong places.

I can be somebody’s and still be my own.

And all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.

There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part, so just give me a happy middle And a very happy start.

The greatest enemy will hide in the last place you would ever look.

An expectation is a hidden agenda with control at its root.

What a hideout: Holiness lies spread and borne over the surface of time and stuff like color.

Nature loves to hide.

I think there’s an artist hidden at the bottom of every single one of us.

Find the hidden blessings in every struggle.

How can you hide from what never goes away?

Wherever you are afraid, try to explore, and you will find death hiding somewhere behind. All fear is of death. Death is the only fear source.